Lovable Strays
by narniagoddess
Summary: Sirius takes a fugitive Draco Malfoy into his care at Hogwarts. Romance sparks, and Draco spies for the light, only he doesn't know it. Sirius does. Super angsty in future chapters.
1. Into the Woods

"Morrissey, McManus - you two go through the back," Sirius whispered, crouched behind bushes. Clad all in black, he was desperate not to be seen or heard, even though the nearest home was a half a mile away. It wasn't a time to take chances - far too much was riding on the perfect execution of this plan. "Finnegan and MacDougal, you can each take a side."  
  
The group of the five most skilled Aurors in Britain was on its most dangerous mission yet - penetrate the Malfoy estate. They had received word from Severus that Lucius would be returning home today from business with Voldemort, and for those precious fifteen minutes, the wards to the house would be down. The plan was to take advantage of that time, apparating into the Manor, and hopefully taking a hostage or two. Lucius was, of course, the second most-wanted by the Ministry, right behind Voldemort himself.  
  
The most recent addition to the most-wanted list had been Draco Malfoy, who became a Death Eater the summer after his sixth year at Hogwarts. That summer, he had been responsible for the destruction of half of Little Whinging, killing thousands of muggles, and forcing the Ministry to work overtime memory charming the lot of them. The muggle media blamed it on "a terrorist bombing." Sirius didn't know what one of those was, but he assumed that it was the equivalent of gathering a thousand Death Eaters in one spot and having them torture family after family - torture the family, kill the dog, and burn the house. Set quite an example.  
  
Needless to say, the Dursley's house had remained unscathed. As always.  
  
Draco had allegedly coordinated it, led it, and presumably killed the most people - at least that is what the Wizard Coroner in Diagon Alley had determined. The wand that killed over one-hundred people was dragon- string, soft wood, 12 inches - and Mr. Ollivander never forgot a wand.  
  
Sirius had been studying the Malfoy family for far too long to not know the truth. From what he had observed over the past years, Lucius, of course, was the most dominating personality in the family. Draco was submissive with his father, catering to his every will and whim. Draco was not the type to go off and launch an entire attack on muggles - sure he had probably thought about it, Sirius assumed, but he would've never had the audacity himself to launch an attack. No, that was more his father's style.  
  
The attacks themselves were also too gruesome, too huge. A boy who hadn't even hurt the family pet (Hercules the Mastiff was going on his ninth year) would not just choose to sacrifice his freedom by killing hundreds of muggles. It didn't make any sense.  
  
When Sirius had arrived at the scenes in Little Whinging, they brought him back to fifteen years earlier, stumbling upon the wreckage at Godric's Hollow. He had gotten there too late - James had been dead, Lily had been dead, and little Harry had just been bawling his eyes out. Hagrid had arrived shortly after that, and he turned his distraught godson over to him. and was left with Lily and James.  
  
The scene had been so macabre, Sirius could hardly stomach it. Whoever said the killing curse was clean was a liar. While James and Lily were mutilated, blood-soaked and unrecognizable, their house had remained impeccable. There wasn't a pillow out of place or a drop of blood anywhere. The murders in Little Whinging had been the same.  
  
Sirius knew that it must have been Voldemort that killed those people. The Killing Curse did not react that way on its own. Only a very powerful wizard could have cast it so that it did not disturb anything around the victims. Draco, while a powerful wizard in his own right, could not have done that. Sirius knew it was Voldemort. but nobody had seemed too eager to challenge Mr. Ollivander or the Ministry Coroner. That little stint had earned Draco's place on the most wanted list, right next to his father.  
  
Lucius, Sirius knew, wouldn't have had it any other way.  
  
So there they sat, five formerly-retired Aurors who had been called back into duty and the onset of the war. Sirius, cleared the summer of the destruction, was called in to lead this attack, which brought them to the present. There they were, Sirius barking out orders and the others taking them, all in the vain quest to find number two and number three.  
  
"What was that, Black?" MacDougal - the smart-mouthed one, asked.  
  
"If you had been paying attention, Aiden, I said you and Finnegan around to the sides, and Morrissey and McManus around to the back."  
  
"And what about you?"  
  
Sirius cracked his knuckles in one swift movement. The men used to find the act incredibly frightening at the beginning of their partnership, but now it only mildly unsettled them - curses and dark hexes they could handle, yes, but there was something so very primitive and creepy about bones cracking that none of them much liked the sound. This resulted in Sirius stepping up the habit even more, sometimes waiting for a particularly silent moment just to freak them out.  
  
"I, Aiden, will be going through the front."  
  
MacDougal scoffed. "What, Black, you think you can just walk in through the front door?"  
  
Sirius turned to him, glared for a brief moment, and then smirked. "Watch me." His watch, not the only piece of muggle 'spy' equipment that he owned, beeped. He looked at it. "The wards will be down for fifteen minutes. We are allowing a seven minute grace period for clock adjustments and whatnot." He pressed a button on his watch, setting a seven minute timer. "So, gentlemen, we wait."  
  
For seven minutes, nobody spoke, sniffled, or even so much as breathed. Sirius knew that it was going to be a miracle if this plan could even be accomplished, let alone go off without a hitch. Severus had given them all the inside information that he could - detailed plans to the house, information about the wards, and advice on what to do. Thanks to the Potions master, the five Aurors knew what time the wards were going down and how to get past the wards on the house. Unfortunately, the house itself knew when non-Malfoy blood was in it. Lucius frequently took this ward down for parties and whatnot, but on a Thursday night in the middle of July, there would be no parties or any reason for the wards to be taken down - thus the men had come prepared. At the end of the previous term at Hogwarts, where Draco couldn't be touched, a large portion of his blood had been drawn by Poppy Pomfrey. Sirius remembered Poppy telling him just how they had tricked Draco. Dumbledore had decided to use the boy's weakness against him.  
  
"And just what the hell is that needle for, anyways?" Poppy shot Draco a look. "Er, ma'am."  
  
She went with the lie that was given to her. "This, Mister Malfoy, is to help protect you from Muggle cooties."  
  
"Cooties?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You mean they're real after all?"  
  
"Just like magic, ghosts, and dragons."  
  
"And this is going to help protect me against them?"  
  
"Yes, Mister Malfoy."  
  
"Ah! Very well, carry on, then."  
  
That blood had thence been injected into each of the Aurors, in effect, making them Malfoys. All Sirius hoped for was that it was reversible.  
  
Sirius had given the others specific instructions to leave the boy unharmed. They could do whatever they wanted to Lucius and Narcissa, but they needed to leave the boy alone. Sirius hadn't told his fellow Aurors about his plans for Draco. Snape who had recently been discovered, suggested using Draco as a spy for the Order.  
  
"All right, guys, let's do this," he whispered. With a faint pop, the five men disappeared into the Manor.  
  
Sirius found himself in the front foyer of the Manor, which had not seemed quite as grand when he was in Severus' pensieve. The ceiling, thirty feet above his head, was painted a royal blue, touched with stars. Sconces of angels lined the ceiling, and the stained glass windows let an assortment of light into the room. Taking a look around the room, he had to chuckle to himself.  
  
All in all, the Malfoys' foyer reminded him a lot of a church. Ahh, to be so sacrilegious.  
  
Sirius took out his wand, praying that his colleagues had done the same. Although the other men were skilled, they didn't have the practice that Sirius had. 'Why take your wand out before you see danger?' Because by the time you see the danger, it might already be too l-  
  
"Stupefy!" he yelled, whirling around to face the staircase. Narcissa Malfoy slumped down, sliding down the rest of spiral stairs. Her wand fell, Sirius noticed. She must have been watching him for more than a second to already have her wand out. He went over to her, checked her pulse, and placed her in a full-body bind. "Sorry, sweetheart," he said with a twisted smile on his face as she looked up at him. "We don't have time for anything else."  
  
"We've got the brat! Any sign of Lucius?" he heard Ryan McManus yell from what Sirius knew was the study. It was the only password-protected room in the house - luckily, Severus had known the password and passed on his valuable information to the men. "Sdoolberup" may have very well just won them this battle.  
  
Sirius left Narcissa and ran down the hall, passing by rooms that he knew were of no importance. If Lucius had arrived in the house already, he would have made a more grand entrance. He leapt down the half dozen stairs and into the study, not wanting to miss a second of having captured Draco. "None, whatsoever. His window of opportunity has come and gone. If Lucius was actually here, he wouldn't just be waiting in the wings for us, he'd want to make a show of -" then Sirius saw Draco.  
  
The small and slimy brat-of-a-boy that Sirius had seen four years ago on the Quidditch pitch was replaced by an over-six-foot commanding presence of a man. Draco was physically tied with his wrists behind his back, his ankles in a bind, and a gag in his mouth, somewhat trapping a few pieces of his shaggy blond hair. Upon seeing Sirius enter the room, he lunged for him and began a much muffled tirade.  
  
Sirius shushed the group, and claimed that he could understand Draco. The men were silent, Draco absolutely livid, and Sirius hanging on to his every word. He even placed his ear closer to Draco's gagged mouth, claiming it could help him understand.  
  
After a minute of silence, interrupted only by Draco's muffled sounds, Brenden Morrissey had had enough. "What's he sayin' then, eh, Black?"  
  
"I think he's saying," Sirius began timidly, "that when he and his father are both in Azkaban, and his mother is under house arrest, the five of us will receive the better part of his inheritance." A snicker, while Draco attempted to scream a denial. "Oh yes, and I could've also sworn that I heard 'Sirius Black is a cheeky fellow, but he's got a nice arse.' More laughter.  
  
Amos Finnegan, no relation to Seamus, chortled. "As if I don't hear about your hindquarters every day, Black." He adopted a high falsetto. "Oh, honey, you're out working with Sirius Black today? You know that man has the cutest rear, I'm so glad he's not a convict anym-"  
  
"As cute as this male bonding really is, gentlemen, I'm afraid I'm going to have to break it up." Six heads whipped around to see Lucius Malfoy standing in the doorway, the only exit to the room. "You see, this is my house, and seeing as how you all have illegally entered here, not to mention capture my son, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to kill you."  
  
"Expelliarmus!!!" MacDougal yelled, pointing his wand directly at Lucius. The beam of magic bounced off of him, reflecting back to MacDougal instead, who was knocked off his feet.  
  
"Impedimenta rescesita!!" This spell was meant to essentially cut of a majority of the oxygen to the brain, slowly placing the victim in a coma.  
  
But the spell reflected off Lucius again, narrowly missing Sirius and hitting Draco. Draco immediately fell to the ground, writhing as the oxygen to his lungs was slowly cut off, as well as the oxygen to his brain. Lucius showed no sympathy for his son.  
  
"Anyone else wish to try their magic on me?" Nobody moved. "As I thought. Mister Finnegan, please untie my son." Nothing. "As you wish. Imperio!"  
  
Amos Finnegan stood straight, in a zombie-like trance. He was showing no signs of resisting. Sirius began to panic. We learned how to resist! They taught us how back in Auror training. if he could just have a little more time. "Lucius!"  
  
Lucius turned to face Sirius, all the while not removing wand from Amos' line. "Ahh, Black, old chap. How are you?"  
  
"Wonderful until you showed up, Malfoy, how bout yourself?"  
  
Lucius grinned - that maniacal grin that a man only uses a few times in his life. It appeared to be somewhat of a permanent fixture on Lucius' face. "I'm smashing. I walk in to see my wife bonded, my house destroyed, and my son in muggle restraints. Not to mention, you're here, Black. Expelliarmus!"  
  
Sirius' wand, as well as Brenden's, Amos', Ryan's, and Aiden's flew into the air, right into Lucius' hand. Finnegan was still standing straight, seemingly transfixed on Lucius. But Sirius knew better. After training alongside him twenty years earlier, Sirius knew when Amos was under the Imperius curse and when he wasn't. and right now he most certainly wasn't.  
  
Sirius knew that if they were going to escape at any point, they could now. He decided to tell Amos, in a code that they had developed both in Auror training and out, to act fast. "Go for Papa Ferret's literal Achilles, Syoma... NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!"  
  
The five men had almost developed their own language in Auror training, and it was still coming in handy today. Syoma was Amos backwards, of course; before the mission they had decided that Lucius would be 'Papa Ferret' (he had heard about some incident with Draco being turned into a ferret his fourth year), and the 'literal achilles' was meant to be taken, well, literally. Amos Finnegan lunged for Lucius Malfoy's ankles - his literal Achilles. As Lucius was staggering, Sirius brandished a dagger and threw it, aiming straight for Lucius' jugular.  
  
It was dead-on.  
  
Draco screamed, muffled by his gag and the fact that he was sufficating, and attempted futilely to run to his father. Ryan McManus held him back, only prompting the young man to struggle and scream even more. Eventually Ryan let Draco go, knowing there was nothing the boy could do anyway.  
  
Sirius sat, transfixed by the events unfolding before him - Lucius, with a gold-encrusted dagger sticking out of his neck; Finnegan, breathing heavily at Lucius' feet; Draco, literally worming his way past Amos and up to his father, powerless to stop what would come - eventual death; Draco lying on top of his father, bound and gagged, crying both for his fallen father and himself.  
  
It was a bizarre sight, indeed.  
  
Sirius stood up, motioning the others to do the same. "Hang on to him, boys, I'm going to get our wands back." The four others picked up Draco, who was quite subdued now. almost eerily so. It was evident to Sirius that the boy had begun the lapse into a coma, but there was still a slight need to restrain him. Sirius walked over, picking up the wands and rescuing his now blood-soaked dagger from Lucius' neck. He pointed his wand at Draco. "Petrificus Totalus." Stiff. As. A. Board.  
  
Sirius then turned his wand on Morrissey, McManus, Finnegan and MacDougal. "This is the end, boys." They stared at him with wide eyes. "As anxious as I know you all are to get your hands on the Malfoy boy, I can't let you do that. Draco is more useful to us living than he is dead. Drop him."  
  
"Sirius what are you doing!" Aiden shouted. "He needs to be -"  
  
"Drop. Him." They complied. "Silencio. Wingardium Leviosa." Sirius levitated Draco right to in front of where he was standing, and took out his Invisibility Cloak. Covering the immobile Draco with it, he turned his attentions back to his fellow Aurors. "Say goodbye, gentlemen, to your memories. Obliviate!!!"  
  
The four men were stunned for a moment, then began to looks strangely at Sirius. "Sirius?" Aiden asked timidly. "What happened?"  
  
"You boys," Sirius began, obviously fabricating parts of this story in his head, "were part of a raid on the Malfoy Manor. With my help, we captured both Narcissa Malfoy and Lucius Malfoy, and I killed Lucius. Draco, however, did not seem to be anywhere in the house. He is still on the loose. Now Minister Fudge I'm sure would like a report from all of you. I am going to take care of Lucius and meet up with you at the ministry." They stared at him. "Go on, go on." He began pushing McManus past Lucius' body and up the stairs. "There's a good boy. The rest of you go, too. There you go. Ciao, darlings!!" He slammed the door behind them.  
  
Sirius finally acknowledged Draco, who was still somewhat conscience. "I'm going to contact the Minister with the floo. Now if you so much as move a goddamned muscle our cover is blown, that's mine and yours. Aurors are going to be swarming upon this house in a matter of minutes. Don't. Be. Stupid. It's not worth it." Sirius walked over to the fireplace, careful to shield Draco from view. He threw in floo powder - "MINISTER FUDGE!" - And a minute later the head of Cornelius Fudge appeared.  
  
"What can I do for you, Sirius?"  
  
"Please send several of the rookie Aurors out to Malfoy Manor," he requested. "Narcissa Malfoy is currently in a body bind, and Lucius is dead."  
  
Fudge seemed stunned for a moment. Apparently this was not the sort of news that he was expecting. "Dead?"  
  
Sirius nodded. "Yes, sir."  
  
"How?"  
  
"I killed him."  
  
"With magic?"  
  
"No, sir. With a knife."  
  
"They'll want to try you, no doubt, Sirius."  
  
Sirius' heart skipped a beat. He didn't honestly think that the killing of a Death Eater would warrant charges of any kind. "Minister, he had some sort of protection spell around him - like nothing I've ever seen before. It must be very old and very dark magic, something Voldemort taught him or something; it was as if the spells didn't even affect him at all. It was either kill him or be killed by him. I had no choice."  
  
"Protection spell, eh? No need to invent phony excuses, Sirius, I'm sure someone from the Ministry will step in to defend you. As it is, you will be called in at some point tomorrow for a debriefing."  
  
"I always thought that desperate times caused for desperate measure, and the problem with Lucius was certainly a desperate time, don't you think, Fudge?" Silence. "Anything else you need me for, sir?"  
  
"No, no, Sirius, take a vacation."  
  
"Thank you, sir. I will be there at 8 AM tomorrow."  
  
"Oh! Sirius, there was one other thing - What of the Malfoy boy?"  
  
A pause. "He was not here at the time of the raid, sir."  
  
"Very well, then. Have a good day, Sirius."  
  
"You too, sir. You, too." And with the Minister's final words, the fire was extinguished.  
  
Sirius exhaled a breath that he didn't even know he had been holding. He had expected Fudge to ask about Draco, that was for sure, but for some reason it surprised him. Maybe it was because this time Sirius really had done something wrong, but wasn't being accused of anything.  
  
He wasn't quite used to that.  
  
Sirius turned to Draco, essentially unconscious and hovering in the air. "Well, well, Malfoy. looks like you're had a nasty go of it. Come on, we need to get you back together. We're going back to my place."  
  
When Draco Malfoy woke, the second thing he noticed was just how much pain he was in.  
  
The first, of course, was that his sheets weren't satin.  
  
He groaned as he tried to sit up, but stopped trying after the actions winded him to the point of exhaustion. What happened? I went from Quidditch-playing sex god to this?  
  
"Morning, sleepy head."  
  
Oh, shit! Please don't let it be him, don't let it be him, don't let it be -  
  
"I hope you've gotten enough sleep," the voice continued. "You're going to need all the energy you've got."  
  
Damn. It is.  
  
Draco finally managed to turn up and face the voice. "Sirius Black," he said flatly, as if he were saying his own name. "To what do I own this. pleasure?"  
  
"Daddy dearest was a little too worried about protecting himself, and you got hit with a curse." Sirius sliced a hunk of apple with his dagger. "I needed to get you recuperated before I took you to Dumbledore. Here, drink this."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Poison."  
  
"Ahh, yes. The chipper alternative to sitting around and making small talk with you." Draco swallowed the potion. A moment of silence. "My father repelled a curse? Where is he? Is he here?"  
  
Sirius' heart sank. Draco remembered nothing of the day before, and he certainly hadn't expected to be the one to tell him. "Petrificus Totalus. Draco, I killed your father. We were at war, and it was either kill him or be killed. And I killed him. I didn't want to kill him, and I wish that there had been a more pleasant way. But there wasn't. You have to understand that. There was no other way." Draco looked stunned. "Malfoy, if I take the binding off of you, do you promise not to hit me?" Draco offered a muffled 'yes' in agreement. "Very well - Finite Incantatum!" He was released from his binding, and what did he do? The natural thing that all seventeen year-olds would do to the man who killed their father.  
  
He punched him.  
  
"What the fuck did you think you were doing, Black?"  
  
"Draco, I'm sor -"  
  
"No you're not, you pitiful excuse for a wizard!" Draco stood up, slightly woozy, but nonetheless drew himself up to his full six-and-a-half feet. "One more Death Eater to mourn, isn't that right? You would've killed him sixteen years ago, had you gotten the chance. It's your big moment, Black - you're turn to shine. Why don't you take me too, huh?" He tried to get the dagger from Sirius' hand. "Two in two days, gotta be some kind of personal best for you, eh you goddamned convict son-of-a -"  
  
"Will you shut up and listen to me for a second?!?" Sirius wrestled his dagger away from the temporarily-insane Draco, who then noticed a slice of blood forming on his hand.  
  
Pause. "Sev's not going to be happy. He and father were quite clo -"  
  
"You need to shut your mouth for two seconds you smarmy little bastard. I am not taking you to the Ministry. We are not meeting up with Minister Fudge. You and I are heading back to Hogwarts."  
  
"Oh? And do I have any say in this? You know, right about now I'd take any other option rather than be - "  
  
"Silencio!" Draco's mouth continued to move, but no words came up. "Nope, no say. Sorry. You need to hear this. I told Minister Fudge that you weren't at the Manor at the time. I memory charmed my fellow Aurors. You see, you, Draco, are more useful to us alive than in Azkaban - so, alive you shall stay. Finite Incantatem."  
  
Draco paused for a second, then looked up at Sirius. "You told them I wasn't here. You just lied to the Minister of Magic himself. That warrants time in Azkaban - you're willing to go back to your favorite hotspot for a Death Eater."  
  
"Look, you just need to trust me. I'm not going to turn you into the Ministry of Magic, and I'm certainly not going to tell Fudge that you were here. I've got my own agenda for you, little one."  
  
Draco snorted. dignified, somehow. "And just why would you risk all that for me, Black? And why the hell aren't we going to the Ministry? If you have some sort of cruel and unusual punishment planned for me, I'll have you know, you ugly mutt, that the name of Malfoy still commands some sort of respect in the world, and the results of you doing whatever sadistic thing you've got planned would not, and I repeat not be pretty."  
  
"Ugly mutt, eh? Nice to know that you still retain your humility and respect for the hand that feeds you."  
  
"I still want to know why you're taking me there."  
  
"Give it a rest."  
  
"Do you have my wand?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Give it back."  
  
Sirius' own wand suddenly became trained on Draco. "There will be a time for that. And nothing funny, either. Don't think that just because I don't work for Voldemort that I don't know all of those charming little hexes and Unforgivable Curses that Voldy's henchmen do. And don't think that I wouldn't bat an eye if I had to use one."  
  
"You're bluffing!"  
  
"Try me." Draco remained silent. "That's a good boy."  
  
"Sod off, Black, and if you hurt my wand in anyway I will come and kill you."  
  
"With your **new** wand. Right. Too bad you don't know any Unforgivable Curses to begin with." Sirius smiled wryly, a look of triumph in his eyes. "I bet you couldn't even hurt a fly."  
  
"And how the hell do you know -"  
  
"Shut up. Now can you fly?"  
  
"Come off it, Black, you know I can fly."  
  
"I've only seen you be a fake Dementor - no flying involved there."  
  
"Well, I can very well. hold on. How did you know that I dressed up as a Dementor?"  
  
Sirius grinned wryly. "Enter Padfoot - lovable stray who happened to see a group of Slytherins behave very badly during Harry Potter's third year."  
  
"Oh shit, that's right - you're the Wonder Child's godfather. And I get stuck with you. Oh this is going to turn out just absolutely wonderful. All right, let's fly back to Hogwarts and get this over with."  
  
"Get what over with? The way you talk you'd think that I'm going to poison you or something."  
  
"You mean you're not?"  
  
"Unfortunately, no."  
  
Draco stared at him for a moment. "Aren't you scared?"  
  
Sirius laughed. "Of what. You?" More laughter. "Kid, I saw enough in twelve years in Azkaban to make you cry for days and sleep with a stuffed bunny for the rest of your life. You don't scare me in the least."  
  
Draco couldn't believe his ears. Black was acting like some sort of damned martyr. "But you're still going to take me back there and tell Dumbledore what a bad little boy I've been and how I killed all sorts of people and dressed up like a Dementor and faked being hurt by a Hippogriff."  
  
"I know that it wasn't you, Draco."  
  
"Oh, believe me, I very well dressed up like a Dementor - had quite a good time of it, too, now that you mention it."  
  
"I was talking about last summer."  
  
Draco was noticeably thrown-off. "And what about it?"  
  
"I know that it was Voldemort. He used your wand to kill all those people in Surrey. You weren't involved at all. If I am correct, it was your father who supplied him with your wand."  
  
Draco's mask fell for a fleeting second, and then was quickly replaced with a look of indifference. "And what of it?"  
  
"Why would you do that, Draco? Why wouldn't you deny that you had done these terrible things? You were on the Ministry's Most Wanted list, for Merlin's sake!! And you didn't even do anything! You didn't even try to deny all the press about you and the Ministry's Orders and everything else that happened last summer. Why?"  
  
"Any press that summer was good press."  
  
"But why would you admit to doing something like that when it wasn't you in the first place?!?"  
  
"Why don't you tell me, Black - did you deny your charges at your trial?"  
  
Sirius turned away from him. "I didn't get a trial."  
  
"But they must have given you some sort of chance to explain yourself."  
  
Sirius turned back around to face Draco. His hands were slightly trembling and his breath was a little labored. "I. didn't get any chance like that. Draco, you have to understand what life was like back then. You didn't know who to trust and who not to. There were witnesses, and Dumbledore said that I was the Potters' Secret-Keeper. Nothing more needed." He sat down on the sofa, needing to breathe. Even thinking about Azkaban weakened Sirius Black, and talking about it was even worse.  
  
Draco sat down next to Sirius. "It's that bad?"  
  
Sirius nodded silently. "Any dreams of glory - and of these grand ideas that Voldemort, you, your father, or the Death Eaters have. it's not worth it. Nothing is worth going there." He chuckled, almost to himself. "And to think that you were willing to throw it away for a bout of power and some silly little dream."  
  
"A silly little dream. can you ever really call a dream, no matter how impossible or ridiculous, 'silly'?"  
  
"When they put your life in danger? Don't get much sillier than that, do they now?"  
  
"No, I suppose not."  
  
A shift. "You know, Draco, I just don't get you. Ten minutes ago you wanted to kill me. Now we're talking about dreams. I just don't get you."  
  
"You have my wand, Mister Black."  
  
Sirius couldn't help but smile. "Indeed I do."  
  
"I'm willing to follow you wherever you'd like us to go, and do whatever it takes, as long as I can get my wand back." Draco recognized that he was on his own, and his father was no longer around to bail him out. Although he would miss the protection, he couldn't honestly say that he would miss the man.  
  
"Very well. You can fly, then?" Draco nodded. "I have a Firebolt waiting for you, if you'd like. I had brought it for myself, but I figure I might as well let you ride it."  
  
A smirk. "Is it. Potter's?"  
  
"Yes, Harry let me borrow it. He said that he was willing to help me in anyway possible, as long as I. 'kicked some Malfoy arse.'"  
  
"Oh, the irony of it all. Potter lets you borrow his broom, so that you can kill me, but I, the still-living Draco Malfoy, fly his broom home. You can't script stuff this good! I should land on his front doorstep."  
  
"Don't you dare. The muggles he lives with would kill him."  
  
They trudged on. "They. really treat him poorly, don't they?"  
  
Sirius visibly tensed, but kept on walking. "Yes, yes they do."  
  
Draco had heard from Severus what exactly the muggles did to Harry. Whenever Draco would complain about Harry, Sev would remind him that in the grand scheme of things, Harry's life wasn't so wonderful either. While Draco had a complete family that at least pretended to love him, Harry was stuck with dead parents and relatives that hated him. "Your father, in his own special way, does love you." It was one of those 'humility lessons' that Sev insisted on teaching him. A lot of good that did.  
  
"So, if you're his godfather, why doesn't he live with you?"  
  
Sirius had often wondered that himself. Now that Arabella was dead, and the Death-Eaters knew where he lived, Harry had no reason to go back to the Dursleys. And yet, Dumbledore had insisted. He said it was 'for the best,' although Sirius secretly felt that Dumbledore was just using all of them to tend to his every whim, and this was just an extension of that power. Damn the man.  
  
"Dumbledore. has his reasons. He knows what he's doing; we only need to trust our fates to him."  
  
"Yes, trust your lives with him, the mental old coot that he is. I swear, Dumbledore is the worst thing to ever happen to that school."  
  
"Well, would you want to spend time with your godfather?"  
  
Draco chuckled. "Sev really isn't all that bad once you get to know him. The whole 'not bathing' thing can get on your nerves after a couple weeks, but really, he's a good guy."  
  
"Speaking of 'Sev,' we would already be there if it wasn't for you yapping."  
  
"You still haven't told me what I'm going there for."  
  
"Draco," Sirius began, "have you ever heard of the Order of the Phoenix?" 


	2. In Pursuit of Excellence

**Title:** Lovable Strays - Chapter 2  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, not even my soul, which I soul to the devil so I could play the geetar.  
**Possible Spoilers:** all 5 books  
**Warnings:** slash, incest, wahoo!  
**A/N:** thanks to Jaime and Emilia for the betas. U ladeys r0x. I'm glad I've finally got this posted, as it only took me 9 months to write. Yes, I am lazy. Hopefully I will be able to update this more, as I kind of left it untouched for awhile but now I'm getting into it again. Reviews make me happy, sexual favors make me even happier.  
  
**Lovable Strays  
Chapter 2 – In Pursuit of Excellence**  
  
Draco laughed in Dumbledore's face, not even going so far as to attempt to conceal the amusement he found in every pathetic statement the old man uttered. "You want me to do _what_?!" he extracted, waving his hand dismissively.  
  
Okay, so respect was never one of Draco's strong points.  
  
He sat in the Headmaster's office, having arrived at Hogwarts only about an hour before. Upon walking into the office, he had been greeted by the penetrating stares of Arthur, Molly, Bill and Charlie Weasley, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Minerva McGonagall, among others. Perhaps what had astonished him the most was that there was even a ghost sitting in on the proceedings. Some old woman wearing simple robes was seated in the seat next to Dumbledore. Draco thought that perhaps she was like Professor Binns and didn't quite realize that she was dead. She even had her dead cat with her, and the blasted thing had gone so far as to hiss at him. Stupid mangy thing – animals don't hiss at Malfoys, Malfoys hiss at animals. Or something like that.  
  
For some reason, they all objected to him being there. "He's a _Malfoy_," the old Weasley man had complained. Draco held his head up high. Yes, indeed he was a Malfoy, he had responded. Better than being a Weasley.  
  
"Your name means 'dragon' doesn't it?" the Weasley with the freckles asked, cocking his head to the side. "Draco… I work with dragons, you know. In Romania. They seem all scary at first, but once you get to know them, they're really not too bad."  
  
"Color me excited," Draco drawled enthusiastically.  
  
"Maybe he's not too bad," the daft Weasley suggested to the rest, patting Draco fondly on the shoulder as he took his own seat off to the side of the Headmaster's desk. "He's the same age as Ron. How bad can he be?" Charlie smiled at Draco. "I mean, he's still only a child."   
  
Half an hour and a few hexes later (with an attempt at a _Crucio_ thrown in for fun), things had calmed down a bit. Child? Child, indeed.  
  
Dumbledore, being the omnipotent ingrate that he was, found amusement in the whole situation, which was to be expected, Draco guessed. He had sat Draco down in an over-stuffed blue velvet chair and explained the situation to him. They were having a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, an organization that even Fudge knew nothing about. They were essentially avoiding all the politics and bureaucracies of the Ministry, and acting of their own accord. Dumbledore, as always, felt that he knew what was best for the Wizarding World, and that he would be the best one to handle it.  
  
Arrogant old fool.  
  
Dumbledore had, of course, been the first person he had seen from the "good" side since Black had… well, not _rescued_ him… decided to bargain with him. Draco and Sirius had flown to Hogwarts – Sirius, on a Cleansweep he had shrunken and brought with him for emergencies, and Draco on Potter's Firebolt. If he hadn't been so pissed off about where he was going and what he was going there for, he would've enjoyed the situation a little more – hell, maybe even found time for a few "riding Potter's broomstick" jokes. After all, there was something inherently primal and evil about flying on your archenemy's broom in the presence of his favorite person in the world. Added a bit of jalapeno to the guacamole that was life.  
  
But just a bit, thank God.  
  
Dumbledore had immediately accosted Draco upon entering into Hogwarts, leading him to the far south tower. What appeared to be a circular meeting room was located in the center of the tower, surrounded by a hallway laid in pure mahogany. He had led Draco into one of the rooms adjacent to the hallway, a large common room.  
  
"Which is mine then?" Draco said, eyeing two bedrooms off the main room.  
  
"Ahhh – the one on the left." He paused. "You will be staying here temporarily, Mister Malfoy," Dumbledore had said, "until all affairs regarding you and your actions are settled."  
  
"So you're never going to let me leave, then," Draco had drawled tastelessly. "Excellent."  
  
Dumbledore had paid no heed to Draco's banter, telling him a meeting would be taking place in an hour's time in the Headmaster's office, and that it would be in his best interest to be there. And with a twirl of his robes and a sparkle in his eye, the old coot had left.  
  
Draco walked around the apartment, noticing the Italian leather sofas and the fully-stocked bar. He was thankful for that, at the very least. The fact that they were keeping him prisoner in a school was contemptible, but at least they were treating him with the proper respect.  
  
He wandered into the bathroom, running the faucet and splashing a bit of water on his face. "There will be a meeting," Draco repeated coyly, imitating the old man's voice. "You should come, Mister Malfoy. It will be… prudent for you to make an appearance." He turned off the water, switching back to his own voice. "Bloody Dumbledore and his goddamn sense of nobili –"  
  
"Talking to yourself again, Master Malfoy?"  
  
Draco spun on the heels of his Italian leather shoes, gasping then relaxing at the sight of the floating figure. "Greetings, Baron," he said properly, toweling his face and exiting the bathroom. "Have you always had the habit of sneaking up on Hogwarts students?"  
  
"No… no I haven't," the Baron replied honestly. "But last thing I checked, Master Malfoy, you were no longer considered to be a Hogwarts student."  
  
"If you've come here to harass me, I assure you, you've accomplished your goal," Draco said curtly. "I have a meeting in a short while and –"  
  
"I am here to escort you to that meeting, Master Malfoy," the so-called Bloody Baron replied.   
  
"Oh, you are, are you?"  
  
"Please. Follow me."  
  
Draco walked briskly down the stairs, remaining silent, as the Baron floated behind him. "I believe I was to lead, Master Malfoy, not you."  
  
"Oh, silly me, my bad," Draco drawled sarcastically. "I think I can manage my way to the Headmaster's office, thank you."  
  
"I'm sure you can…" the Baron cleared his throat. "So, young Malfoy, what brings you to Hogwarts."  
  
"My father's dead, my mum's in St. Mungo's, and I'm a convicted murderer, shunned by society." He stopped to look the Baron in the eye. "And how are you?"  
  
"_Bloody_ wonderful," the apparition replied with a grin. "I'm thrilled to hear you're doing just as well." A pause. "Dumbledore does want what's best for you, you know. He always has. He is aware of how to help you."  
  
"So he says."  
  
It was only after Dumbledore actually began to speak to him inside his office that Draco realized the old man was wrong.  
  
"We would like you to join the Order, Mister Malfoy."  
  
Draco greeted reality, snapping out of his daydreaming and shooting up in his chair. He didn't know what he had to do to let them realize that he was most definitely _not_ interested in whatever little 'Good vs. Evil' battle that they were waging –especially if it involved supporting the light. _What do I have to do to make them realize that I don't care – walk in naked and have 'I'm a Death Eater' tattooed across my –_  
  
"Albus feels that you would be… an asset, Draco." Sirius looked at him pointedly.  
  
"I don't know _what_ you think I could do to help, let alone why you think I would want to help you," Draco dismissed with a pointed look.  
  
"What do you mean you don't know what you could do to help?!" Sirius exclaimed. "There's plenty!"  
  
"Hey, yeah!" Draco exclaimed sarcastically. "I could teach Potter the Unforgiveables! _Super!_"  
  
"I wasn't talking about _that_."  
  
"Then what, oh _wrongly-convicted_ cousin of mine, were you babbling about?" Draco challenged, shooting Sirius a look as a stand of platinum hair fell in front of his eyes.  
  
"Why, you could be a spy!" Sirius sputtered indignantly.  
  
Draco chuckled. "And why, precisely, would I want to do that?"  
  
Sirius' eyes narrowed. "Because it's the right thing to do, Draco," he said quietly. "You know that."  
  
Draco rolled his eyes, tucking his stray hair behind his ears. "All right, thanks for the pep talk, Jesus," he sneered. "I'll keep that in mind the next time I need someone to cure my leprosy. Or better yet –" he smiled wickedly –"to make a martyr of."  
  
Dumbledore sighed. The conversion of Draco wasn't something he had expected, but he was certainly hoping that the boy would think things through a little more thoroughly. "It was our hope that you might perhaps consider turning spy against Voldemort. You could provide useful information that would no doubt save countless lives."  
  
Draco laughed. "Ooh, yes, *save the Muggles*. How _could_ I have forgotten about your _favorite_ crusade?!"  
  
Arthur Weasley's face began to match the color of what little hair was remaining atop his head. "Boy, don't you realize the good that you could do?"  
  
"Oh? Good?" Draco smirked. "And what would I get in return for it?"  
  
"In payment for you being on the Order, we could strike a deal with the Ministry that would allow you to return to school."  
  
Draco visibly tensed. He had left school at the end of his sixth year, with no intention of ever returning. That summer, Voldemort had unleashed his havoc in Little Whinging, and Draco considered not getting caught by the Ministry more important than becoming a fully-fledged wizard. What was the big deal with it, anyway? They give you a piece of paper with your name on it and a pat on the back for not unleashing havoc for the past seven years. And besides, Draco knew more than half the wizards and witches out there.  
  
"So I didn't finish school," Draco said, obviously made uncomfortable by the whole situation. "What of it?"  
  
"You could receive your Hogwarts diploma," Dumbledore replied factually. "You could finish the education you never got a chance to return to."  
  
"And why would I want to do that?"  
  
"You could become a full wizard, Draco," Sirius replied, a slight pleading tone noticeable in his voice. "If – when – you're cleared, you won't have to hide behind a smokescreen of other wizards and your father's gold. You can become your own man."  
  
Draco snorted. "It's what I've always wanted." He leaned in towards Dumbledore and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "And what's in it for you?"  
  
"We were hoping, Mister Malfoy, that you could testify at your mother's trial."  
  
"Bingo!" Draco exclaimed, slamming his palm on Dumbledore's desk. "You've found Draco Malfoy's sensitive spot!"  
  
Narcissa Malfoy's trial had yet to begin, but there was no question of whether she would be tried or not. While Lucius operated as the arm of the Malfoy Family, acting swiftly and decisively, it was Narcissa who made all the decisions. It was Narcissa who had originally suggested to Lucius that perhaps he attack Little Whinging as a message to Dumbledore. It was Narcissa who had provided Voldemort with Draco's wand. And it was Narcissa who did nothing to stop the backlash from the Ministry when they had announced that Draco was number three.  
  
Draco hadn't quite forgiven her for those last two.  
  
"Draco, if I may –"  
  
"You want me to testify at my mother's trial?" Dumbledore nodded gravely. Draco scoffed. "My mum says it's considered impolite to testify at the trial of your own family members."  
  
"What is considered impolite by some is considered to be the most courteous of all by others."  
  
Draco's eyes narrowed as he smirked at his former Headmaster. "So let me get this straight. You want me to testify against my mother, which I don't want to do, in order to serve on this council and become a spy, which I don't want to do either."  
  
"Draco," Sirius interrupted.  
  
"I can speak for myself, _Black_," Draco snapped. "Yes, I would have my freedom, but I think I could manage that on my own. I don't know if I quite like the terms of your agreement." He smirked. "So, ladies and gentlemen, thanks, but no thanks. Good luck with whatever the hell it is that you're doing." He stood up to leave.  
  
While Dumbledore didn't bat an eye, Sirius was noticeably irritated. After all he had done to get Draco safe and back at Hogwarts, the boy was just going to throw it all away. Remus noticed Sirius' worry. "Draco," Lupin said softly, looking up at his former student. It was the first time he had spoken throughout the entire meeting.  
  
"Hello, Professor." Despite the fact that he was a werewolf, Draco had actually liked Professor Lupin. Lupin not only knew how to defend himself against the Dark Arts, but also knew the dark magic itself, and this impressed Draco. Lupin's class was the closest that he had ever come to learning the Dark Arts in school, and he had loved every minute of it. Despite the place that Professor Umbridge would always hold in Draco's heart for being a right and nasty bitch, Professor Lupin would always be Draco's second-favorite. Not to mention, he was better than that Moody fellow. Crouch. Whoever the hell he was.  
  
Being a ferret hurt. Quite badly, thank you.  
  
"Draco, I do not think you are making the wisest of decisions. If you testified against your mother… you could return to the way things were before last summer. You wouldn't have to hide anymore. You could finish school. Don't you want that?" Lupin's voice held a tone of desperation.  
  
"Ahhh, yes, the poor little boy whose mum's a nutter and daddy's dead – and on top of that he never got to finish school. So tragic…"  
  
"You mean to tell me you do not wish to become a fully-trained wizard?"  
  
"Oh, I would like for all that to happen, Professor –"  
  
"—please, Draco, call me Remus—"  
  
"—but I'm afraid that I can't agree with your Terms of Service. You see, I'm what you'd call… hmm, how to say this… a 'Death Eater.' I. Like. Voldemort." He smirked. "Yes, children, I said the bloody name. I don't support his methods, hence why I do not participate, but he has plenty of good ideas. One idea I do not support, however, is the idea of me fighting against him. And do you know why? Because it is silly – yes, very silly indeed – and even speaking about it is a waste of my time."  
  
"What do you mean you didn't participate?" McGonagall exclaimed. It was obvious that she had been holding her tongue throughout the entire conversation. Insolent Slytherins, she could handle; Slytherins who were rotten to the core and _still_ remained insolent, she could not. "Do you consider yourself so above the law, Mister Malfoy, that killing thousands of Muggles does not constitute 'participating'? If not, I wouldn't like to be present when you do decide to participate!" she finished with a "hmph!"  
  
Draco was absolutely livid. "Now listen here, witch," he began testily, pointing his finger at Minerva. "I –"  
  
"Draco, I think I could perhaps offer a better explanation." Draco was startled by the old man as he spoke. Dumbledore had never used his given name before, even in private conversation. He generally reserved that for his Favored Child. Now, however, it seemed that the old man was making an exception. "It is of Sirius' opinion that you were not responsible for the attacks on Little Whinging. Am I right?"  
  
"Albus, there's no way that he could've –"   
  
Sirius was silenced by a wave of Dumbledore's hand. "Please, Sirius. I would like to hear Draco's answer."  
  
Draco cleared his throat. He had only been truly nervous several times in his life, and this was definitely one of them. Admit that he wasn't really evil after all, and that his mother and father had used and manipulated him for the greater good? However, he had no desire to see Dumbledore or anyone else in this 'Order' pity him for his weaknesses. He drew himself to his full height, and matched Dumbledore's gaze. "No, I was not directly responsible for any of the attacks."  
  
"How can you lie like that?" Arthur Weasley was out of his chair, face slowly turning a shade of crimson. "Albus, you know what this boy is capable of! Malfoy has proved to us already that he has no problems associating with the Dark Lord – what makes us think that he wasn't responsible? We don't need to look much further than Lucius to see where his loyalties lie!" He sat back down in his chair. "This boy shouldn't have been brought into our ranks in the first place."  
  
"For your information, my loyalties lie with myself, _Weasley_," Draco spat. "I do things because they help _me_, not any crazed old fool, whether he is in charge of an army of Death Eaters or an army of martyrs." Draco looked pointedly at Dumbledore. "I support the elimination of half-bloods and Mudbloods. Therefore, I have chosen to ally myself with Voldemort, seeing as how you, sir, seem to think that Mudbloods are worth our time and effort."  
  
"Draco, life isn't always that simple," Sirius said pleadingly.  
  
Draco scoffed, not bothering to even offer so much as a sideways glance to the speaker. "This coming from a _Gryffindor_," he snapped. "Each one of you in this room seems to think that life is as simple as black –" he looked pointedly at Sirius "–and white. But in the real world, it's not that easy. Sometimes, we have to do what we have to do. Joining Voldemort is what's best for me. I'm not in this for his revolution, and I'm certainly not in it for him. I expect to be saved. I am only in this for myself."  
  
Remus sighed. Sirius clenched his fists on his lap and took a deep breath. Dumbledore's eyes merely twinkled. "Be that as it may, Mister Malfoy, we had hoped to reach some sort of agreement with you."  
  
Draco laughed. "Hanging onto false hope is _such_ a bitch, isn't it?"  
  
"Draco, watch your tongue," Sirius snapped at him.  
  
"Ah, yes, rule number five of the Black Family Code," Draco retorted with a smirk and his chin held high, "do not curse, swear, or use vulgarity in the presence of the elderly. It prouds me, dear cousin, to see that your mother instilled that code into you as mine did."  
  
Dumbledore chuckled. "You're not an easy one, are you, young Malfoy… I can recall your father being in nearly this same position, shortly after I became headmaster. Your father, too, chose to not follow my advice."  
  
"Yes, and he's doing rather well, isn't he?" Draco sneered. "Headmaster, my answer still stands. I have no business helping you out, and it's simply not in my self-interest to. Good luck with the spy thing."  
  
Dumbledore barely nodded. "Very well, then, if that is your decision."  
  
"It is," Draco reiterated firmly.  
  
"I will have you know, that should you need assistance, help will always be given."  
  
"I am aware."  
  
"Good." A pause. "Mister Malfoy, do you have accommodations?"  
  
"Ah, no sir, I do not. I was hoping to collect my inheritance and perhaps move to France."  
  
"You have family there, do you not?"  
  
"My mother's sister, Bellatrix Lestrange – I believe you know of her, Headmaster? I daresay _you_ know her quite well, Black." Draco smirked as he turned to throw a look at Sirius. "Now what _was_ her maiden name?" He rubbed his chin in mock contemplation. "If only I could remember…"  
  
"That's enough, Draco," Lupin said quietly. "Headmaster, I don't believe that a Death Eater's chateau in the south of France is the best place for Draco to go. Perhaps he should just stay at Hogwarts?"  
  
Draco chuckled. "Stay at Hogwarts? Don't you people get it? I'm not on your side!"  
  
"Nonetheless, Draco, this would be a safe place for you to stay. Until the Ministry has cleared you and you have become a full wizard, you really do have nowhere else to turn to. Perhaps you could choose to live with the Lestranges, but you would be forced to live in the Wizarding World as a Muggle. I think, Draco, that it would be best for you to stay here."  
  
Draco stared at Dumbledore, not allowing the look of defeat to cross his own face. "Very well, then. Same room?" Dumbledore nodded slightly. "Good. I guess I'll be seeing you kids later, then. Oh, and Sirius –" he smiled at the ex-convict. "I'll be sure to tell Aunt Bella in my letter that you send your regards." With a smirk on his face, Draco Malfoy exited the office.  
  
******  
  
"A word, Black?"  
  
Severus Snape had accosted Sirius immediately after exiting the meeting. After the departure of Draco, the Order had essentially developed into one huge argument. Seems as if Sirius got to experience a second argument.  
  
"Why Snivellus, so lovely to see you," Sirius said scathingly.   
  
"The fact that you've resulted to schoolyard insults is not surprising, but I was hoping we could have some sort of semblance of a conversation." He stared at Black. "Conversation is a big word for 'yap yap,' Black."  
  
"I know that, Snape," he spat. "What do you want?"  
  
"Draco. How is the boy?"  
  
Sirius sighed. For some reason, he cared about Draco's well-being. Maybe it was the Black blood that coursed through both their veins. Maybe it was the fact that he reminded him of Lucius. But most of all, maybe it was the fact that he was so close in age to Harry. So close in age, and yet they were two complete opposites. And one in the same, really. Both boys never truly knew their parents, both were unloved by those around them, and both depended on their godfathers. They were extremely motivated and competitive. Really, they complimented each other quite nicely.  
  
And it bothered him that while Harry did everything he could to help the light – he was in Auror training, and attended (albeit irregularly) the Order meetings, Draco did the exact opposite – nothing. He openly supported Voldemort, but did nothing to stop him. Draco stood aside and watched the man wreak havoc, all the while saving himself. Nothing pained Sirius more than to think that Harry could be like Draco. He hoped that wouldn't happen. And Draco, Sirius knew, would never be like Harry.  
  
Sirius chose his next words carefully. Draco meant an awful lot to Snape, and he was fiercely protective of the boy. "Draco…" Sirius shrugged. "Draco is Draco."  
  
"And what is that supposed to mean, mutt?"  
  
Sirius had to chuckle. "Not only are you asking about him, now you sound like him as well."  
  
"The boy is my godson, Black, I would like to know what went on in there."  
  
Sirius lowered his gaze. "I know, Severus. Draco… didn't accept the position like we had hoped."  
  
"Well certainly you didn't expect him to accept it?"  
  
"No… but it would have been nice. I had _thought_… at the manor, he seemed almost normal. I thought that perhaps he wasn't rotten to the core, and that it was just a façade. But I guess I thought wrong."  
  
Severus sighed. "Draco… has always been the one person I was never able to understand. His father I was able to read like a book, but Draco has always been a challenge. But don't worry – Albus doesn't tire easily."  
  
"But Draco's already chosen his path."  
  
"Oh, he thinks he has, but don't let the boy fool you. He can be… quite deceiving. One way or another, he will make his final decision. He thinks he has, but it's really yet to come."  
  
"And you think he will side with us?"  
  
Severus sighed. "Draco's interests are in himself. He's willing to do whatever it takes to protect him. If he thinks that siding with Voldemort is better for him, he's going to do it, no matter whether he supports the man or not. If it takes the death of a few Muggles to die for Draco to save his own hide, then so be it."  
  
"That's outrageous!"  
  
Snape's eyes turned ice cold. "Not all of us were fortunate enough to be able to associate in our youth with whomever we pleased. Just because you were surrounded by that damn Potter and the rest of your do-gooding cronies who were always teaching you right from wrong, it doesn't mean that others were." He paused. "You don't know what it's like to not have somebody teaching you to be a hero. Sometimes you just have to do what you can do to save yourself. Sometimes that's all you know."  
  
Sirius crossed his arms. "That's completely barbaric."  
  
Severus snorted. "This is coming from a man who licks his own genitalia. Do tell me, Black, what Draco's immediate plans are."  
  
Sirius sighed. "Well, he seemed to want to take an early retirement and shack up somewhere in France with the Lestranges, but Albus has him staying here."  
  
"Smart. We can keep an eye on the boy. Go on."  
  
Sirius was puzzled. "But doesn't that allow Voldemort a contact at the school?"  
  
"Do you think I wear the Dark Mark simply because it matches my persona? Really, Black, Draco could hardly be useful for Voldemort. He is of no importance to Dumbledore here in the castle, or the resistance, and is not going to be revealing any sordid details to our plans. Draco can stay here, safe from Voldemort, under our watchful eye, and still feeling like he's contributing to his cause somehow." Severus paused. "Albus and I had discussed… _another_ way of Draco contributing to the Order…"  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"He could be used as a spy –"  
  
"—but we already tried asking him –"  
  
"—and not know it."  
  
Sirius was surprised. "You mean, pump him for information?"  
  
"I was thinking more along the lines of 'casually get him to talk,' but your way sounds much more fun." Severus smirked.  
  
"Oh please, Severus, enough with that." Sirius frowned. "He's not just going to casually mention to Albus what the Death Eaters' plans are, you know. He's smarter than that."  
  
Snape smiled. "Of course he is. After all, Draco learned his smarts from me. However, my being a spy has somehow eluded him. If I were to, oh, say, casually bring up in conversation what the Dark Lord may be planning, he would be more than willing to tell me. After all," Severus said wryly, "I'm Uncle Sev."  
  
Sirius froze. He had forgotten that Draco and Severus were so close. "Snape, you don't have to do this. Draco will never speak to you again at the very least when he discovers that you have betrayed him… let me talk to Albus. I'm sure there is something that he and Draco will be able to come to a compromise."  
  
"Draco will never give in to Dumbledore, Black, although your attempts to play the saving godfather are quite charming." Severus sneered. "One does what they must in times of crisis… and if it means Draco is no longer happy with me, then so be it. How the Order benefits from my relationship with him is far more important than the relationship itself."  
  
"And how do you propose we go about doing this, Snape?"  
  
"Leave that to me."  
  
And with a swish of his robes, Severus Snape was gone, leaving Sirius to ponder his thoughts.  
  
******  
  
Draco bowed subtly. "Milord." Voldemort knew that he would never get more than the slightest hint of respect out of the boy. If it had been anyone else, he would've killed the insolent brat immediately, but since it was Lucius' son, he only found it amusing. Voldemort had known the Malfoy Family longer than any other family, starting with Lucius' father Constantine, and was willing to tolerate the boy in order to keep the respect from the other Death Eaters that he so desperately needed.  
  
"You said you had some information for me, Draco?" Voldemort asked while they began walking to the Riddle house from Draco's apparition point in the caretaker's home.  
  
To say that Voldemort had been surprised when Draco had owled him was an understatement. Draco had never initiated the contact between the two before, and as far as he knew, Draco never planned to. So when the youngest Malfoy had sent a letter saying that he had a bit of inside information that could help him, Voldemort knew that it must have been of great importance.  
  
"Yes, I do. I was just offered a position at Hogwarts on a secret council called 'the Order of the Phoenix.' Have you heard of it?"  
  
Voldemort frowned, if it was possible for a lipless man to do so, furrowing his hairless brow. "I have. That Skeeter woman has been reporting of it… I took it as simply myth."  
  
Indeed, Rita Skeeter had considered this 'Order of the Phoenix' business to be a hot topic for the Daily Prophet. Although she could provide no details as to who was in the Order, and what their mission, she had been making mention of it since the Incident, as Draco liked to call it.  
  
"No, milord, it's real. Dumbledore is the head, and Black, Lupin, and those Muggle-loving Weasley fools are in it. Some others, but I didn't know who they were… one of them was a ghost, even."  
  
"Describe the ghost to me."  
  
"She just sat there, petting her cat. It was like she didn't even realize that she was dead. She just played with her cat and listened to everything that Dumbledore and the others had to say."  
  
"Arabella…" Voldemort muttered.  
  
"Who?"  
  
The Dark Lord cleared his throat and began to speak louder. "Arabella Figg was the highest-ranking Squib working for the Ministry of Magic during the sixties. She thought she could defeat us, and in the end, she did capture many Death Eaters. When the Potters died and I was… _detained_, she was made Harry Potter's secret-keeper. Although we know that he lives in Little Whinging, we did not know which house. Now, since she has apparently died and taken her secret to the grave, we will never know."  
  
"Black said that now that she had died, Harry wouldn't have to live with the Muggles anymore," Draco offered.  
  
Voldemort frowned. "Black was planning on taking Potter in then?"  
  
"I'm assuming so, milord."  
  
"I see… well this could become very favorable for us. If Potter moves, then Dumbledore and Black will be forced to find a new secret-keeper. That gives us a living target with which to get at the boy."  
  
"It will no doubt be somebody in this 'Order'."  
  
"The Order… yes… and tell me, Draco, what their purpose is?"  
  
Draco smirked. "Why, defeating you, of course. They had asked me if I was willing to join the order as a spy. I, in turn, laughed in their faces and explained that they had nothing to offer me."  
  
Voldemort paused. "Draco… you are aware that the consequences to those who _did_ spy would be… _unfortunate_."  
  
"I have never considered it, milord," Draco defended. "I have chosen my side, though you are aware of my feelings."  
  
"Indeed I am. You wish not to incriminate yourself, and I'll have you know, that were you not Lucius' son you would be dead by now for treason and cowardice."  
  
"I am aware, milord." They continued on.  
  
"Nonetheless… you prove yourself to be a real gem, as you have tonight. Tell me, Draco, would there be a way of infiltrating their meetings?"  
  
Draco shook his head. "Even Skeeter can no longer get in, and she's an animagus. I couldn't just _join_. They don't trust me… I made my opinions of their little group quite clear."  
  
"Yes, they more than likely would know."  
  
"Even if I did wait awhile, that ass Dumbledore would know. He would –"  
  
"Why, Draco, I don't think I've heard you swear before."  
  
Draco paused. "I apologize, milord. I shouldn't have said that, and it was beneath me."  
  
"Draco, I was merely commenting that I hadn't heard you curse before, not that I wanted you to apologize for it. Learn the difference."  
  
"Yes, milord."  
  
"Black has returned, and Figg is there as well. Therefore, the Order is impenetrable. But you, my little bottle of evil… you are going to discover the identity of Potter's secret-keeper. You can use no traceable magic, and Dumbledore is not to have any tangible evidence that you are on a mission for me. Is that clear, young Malfoy?"  
  
"Crystal, milord."  
  
******  
  
If there was one benefit of being under Dumbledore's watchful eye and not the Ministry's, it was that he could come and go as he pleased. Of course, being as he was a wanted murderer, this did not help his situation much, but nonetheless – it was handy on occasion.  
  
He flew Potter's Firebolt to the front of Hogwarts, and landed, hopping off and making his way in past the doors that had apparently been trained to recognize him. Glancing around, he hopped back on the Firebolt and made his way up the stairs and to the tower he was staying in.  
  
"STUDENT ON A BROOM! STUDENT ON A BROOM!"  
  
Draco came to a halt on the second landing. Peeves had somehow managed to find him, and if there was one thing the poltergeist enjoyed, it was finding a new victim. Lucky for Draco, the victim this time was him.  
  
"Quiet Peeves," Draco snapped, continuing up the stairs as the poltergeist followed him. "I'm only riding up to my rooms. School is not in session."  
  
_"Malfoy, oh Malfoy, just where have you been?"_ Peeves sang gleefully, _"Off with that big evil wizard again? The Great Wizard trusts you but what do you know, the trust he has given is all just a show."_  
  
"Go away Peeves," Draco mumbled, hopping back on his broom.  
  
_"The White Wizard helps you, but yes, once again, you shall be tossed on your back in the den. A lion, a serpent, together in sin – combined both a power, but just one shall win!"_  
  
Draco stopped, placing his hands on his hips and eyeing Peeves incredulously. "Would you like me to call the Baron on you, Peeves?"  
  
Peeves nodded. "Oh yes, Meanie Malfoy, please do!"  
  
"Baron!" Draco called, folding his arms across his chest. "Peeves wanted to have a word with you!"   
  
A moment later, the Bloody Baron arrived. Draco, stepping off his broom, gave a curt nod. "And what is the problem, Mister Malfoy?" the Baron asked, cocking his head and eyeing Peeves.  
  
"Peeves has found it necessary to speak in riddles to me."  
  
"Peeves…"  
  
Peeves faced Draco suddenly, running his hands an inch from his skin. _"Cold be heart and hand and bones, and cold be travelers far from home. They do not see what lies ahead, when sun has failed and moon is dead!"_ He turned, fleeing.  
  
Draco sighed. "It *is* so glorious to be back at Hogwarts."  
  
"Hogwarts missed you," the Baron offered wistfully.  
  
A smile. "Well, I can't say the sentiments are mutual. I'll see you later, Baron."  
  
The Baron nodded. "Good day, Master Malfoy."  
  
Draco hopped back on the Firebolt, making his way up the last flights of stairs. He swooped into his common room and walked into his own apartment, making his way to the living room. He couldn't live like this forever. He took a pot off the mantle, throwing the powder into the fireplace as he spoke.  
  
"CORNELIUS FUDGE!" Draco yelled. The flames were lapping high, casting a greenish tint to his dark living room.  
  
It was time, he had decided, to come clean on his own. Dumbledore and Sirius were right, and he knew it. Not that he'd even admit it to them. But it was as they had told him, he needed to finish his schooling and become a fully-trained wizard – otherwise there would never be a place for him in the Wizarding World.  
  
Muggle World, now that was a thought he was not even going to pursue.  
  
Cornelius Fudge, the almost-impeached Minister of Magic appeared in the flames. Draco noted him as being smaller and older than he remembered. Had it really been that long? Fudge wrinkled his nose, placing his glasses on his face. His eyes grew wide upon recognizing the other face.  
  
"Mister Malfoy… what are you… where are you?" he asked, not quite finding the words. After not seeing the boy in months, Draco was sure that his appearance was not expected. But Fudge was a trusted face, and as he had protected Lucius, Draco knew he would protect him.  
  
"I'm at Hogwarts, Minister," Draco replied, smirking. "Who else do you think would have gotten to me first?"  
  
Fudge shook his head. "Dumbledore… I should have suspected." He sighed. "And Black?"  
  
"Your _loyal employee_ was the one in charge. He 'rescued' me, so to speak."  
  
"And killed your father," Fudge added, and paused. "Draco, I truly was sorry to hear about that."  
  
"As was I," Draco said quietly, sitting on the sofa. "But I guess his time had come… he couldn't have kept going forever." He paused. "But anyway," he finally said brusquely, attempting to move the conversation along. "There was a reason I wanted to talk to you..."  
  
Fudge folded his hands on his lap and smiled benevolently. "Yes, Draco. What is it?"  
  
Draco stood, and began pacing across the dimly-lit room. "Well, it's come to my understanding that my mother is going to be put on trial."  
  
His face remained expressionless. "I saw her earlier today."  
  
Draco sat on the edge of the sofa, leaning into the flames. "And how is she?" he asked, twisting his hands together. "Is she all right?"  
  
Fudge smiled wryly. "As defiant as ever, I should say."  
  
Draco sighed. "She'll be facing prison, no doubt."  
  
Fudge nodded. "Yes, Draco, there was… nothing I could do about that. There is too much evidence against her… there was no way I could've stopped that from happening."  
  
"I know, I know," Draco said, waving his hand to silence the minister. "Believe me, I understand. But if my location is discovered –"  
  
"—which it will be –"  
  
"I will be placed on trial as well."  
  
Fudge gave him a look. "You don't know that, Draco."  
  
"Yes I do, Minister. And there's nothing I can do to stop it. You can't protect my family any longer."   
  
"I can try…"  
  
"Ha! There's nothing left to protect! My mother is riding the crazy train to hell, my aunt is wanted by the authorities for genocide or something of the like, not to mention torturing the Longbottoms –"  
  
"—they're still upset about that? –"  
  
"—and quite naturally so. My father's family is dead and the only decent member of my mother's side that is left is that Muggle-loving cousin of hers."  
  
"Sirius Black?"  
  
"The one and only," Draco retorted with a scoff. "If I see him kiss the hem of Weasley's robes any longer, I think I'll hex myself."  
  
"Which Weasley?" Fudge inquired.  
  
"Pick one!" Draco exclaimed, throwing his arms dramatically in the air. "Poverty seems to be in fashion these days."  
  
"There must be someone else you can turn to– Severus perhaps?"  
  
"It would run too much a risk of betraying himself as a spy." The Minister's eyes widened. "Oh, yes, by the way, Severus Snape is a spy. Heh, _they_ don't know that _I_ am aware of that little tidbit, and I'm sure I would never hear the end of it were that to leak out. I trust you to keep that information well-kept, as he is helping your cause." He paused. "Well, your government's cause."  
  
"Not a word, Mister Malfoy."  
  
"Thank you. But back to the matter at hand – my untimely demise."  
  
"Which you know nothing about."  
  
"No, it will all come to an end." He began pacing once again. "They will come to Hogwarts, they will find me, they will arrest me, and they will sentence me. And then they will Kiss me goodbye. One more Death Eater taken care of. And Dumbledore will return to fighting evil, you will return to whichever side the coin dictates, and everyone will forget about that evil little blond boy – what was his name again?"  
  
"Draco, they will not."  
  
He stopped, staring Fudge square in the eye. "Oh, but they will. And they will carry on with their happy-go-lucky lives, and I will be left, rotting in Purgatory for the sins on my soul, while blighters like Dumbledore just never… seem… to die…"  
  
"Dumbledore has given you a home," the Minister reminded Draco gently.  
  
Draco snorted. "Well _Dumbledore_ left me no choice."  
  
"Well do you have a plan?"  
  
Fudge saw the first genuine smile to cross Draco's face. "Between babbling about a secret society and attempting to turn me into a spy – yes, the old coot did mentioned something."  
  
"And?" Fudge pressed.  
  
"Like I said earlier, I understand that there is to be a trial."  
  
The Minister nodded. "Yes."  
  
"And if I was, to, say, help convict my mother, there would be something in it for me, no?"  
  
"The Ministry of Magic would be willing to drop all charges, of course."  
  
Draco paused, sat, and then spoke clearly. "I want to testify at my mother's trial."  
  



End file.
